


our love is a forest fire

by taizi



Series: years and years [3]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taizi/pseuds/taizi
Summary: Casey is hardened and trigger-happy, scarred by street violence that was only his business because he made it that way, but he’s still soft in an uncorrupted way. Still kind in a way Raph thinks his mother would have been proud of.





	our love is a forest fire

**Author's Note:**

> our love is a forest fire  
> and we are the little things that live in the trees ([x](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=876))

Casey – with the crooked gap in his grin and twice-broken nose and scarred knuckles – is a cuddly drunk. Raph has known him for almost seven years at this point and _still_ hasn’t quite reconciled himself to the fact. **  
**

“You gonna get off me?” Raph asks dryly. Casey hums under his breath and settles more heavily against his chest. “Guess that was a stupid question.”

He showed up at the lair two hours ago with a split lip and a six-pack of cheap beer, almond eyes bright and reckless. Now they’re in the subway car that serves as Raph’s bedroom, and Casey is tracing the lines between the scutes of Raph’s plastron with steady fingers.

“My dad’s an asshole,” he says without warning. “Don’t know why I go over there expectin’ anything different. S’stupid.”

His dad _is_ an asshole, has been since he fell off the bandwagon and picked up drinking again. He doesn’t pull his punches, knows exactly where to hit Casey to make it _hurt_. He’s even meaner when he’s wasted.

And Casey has seen more danger in his life than most people his age would know what to do with – has gone head to head with crime lords and super villains with nothing more than a spray-painted mask and a hockey stick – but he can still be hurt by his dad.

Raph thumbs the torn corner of Casey’s mouth, smearing blood when it splits open again under his hand.

“Yeah, you _do_ know,” Raph says. It’s easy to talk like this in the dim light of a secondhand lamp, when Casey’s eyes are hidden beneath his fringe and miles away. “He’s your dad. You want him to be better. That ain’t _stupid_.”

Casey is hardened and trigger-happy, scarred by street violence that was only his business because he made it that way, but he’s still soft in an uncorrupted way. Still kind in a way Raph thinks his mother would have been proud of. 

He’ll forgive, even when it makes more sense to hate. He’ll bear blows that anyone else would walk away from, because he’s Casey Jones, and he’s been to space and he’s been through war and so far no one has proved him not to be unbreakable.

“I dunno what it is,” Raph admits to the dark, “but stupid ain’t the right word.”

They’re not tender people – even their caring is fierce, and Raph’s love crouches in his armored chest like a creature with sharp teeth – but they’re not built on violence, either. Raph doesn’t touch him just to leave bruises. Casey leans in to his mouth without bite.

Casey – with the crooked gap in his grin and twice-broken nose and scarred knuckles – is a cuddly drunk. He gentles as the alcohol flows, like a person loosing plates of armor one by one, and in that Raph knows he is _nothing_ like his father.

(And if his father is every shitty thing Raph can think of, it only stands to reason that Casey must be something pretty fucking good.)


End file.
